Haven
by Lachriel
Summary: It's been a bad day.  Rated T more for implied than actual violence and adult themes.


Disclaimer: I don't own Leverage or any of the characters. I don't make any money from fanfic-authoring. If I did, I could do more of it.

Note: Written after seeing Elliot using guns. If you've seen it, you know what I mean.

We used to be together, but that was a long time ago. The first few years without him were the hardest. And I don't just mean that I'd gotten used to him being there beside me, taking care of me, though that was certainly true as well.

It was the nature of his job. His career in "acquisitions" had made him some enemies, and some of those enemies thought it would be easier to get to him through me.

I got tired of being the damsel in distress. I didn't want to be his weakness anymore. It was why I'd left him in the first place. Because those enemies were right. Whenever I was in trouble, he came running to the rescue. And it didn't stop just because we weren't together anymore.

Not anymore. I wasn't going to let it be like that anymore.

I grabbed his sleeve as he turned to leave. "You don't get to ride off into the sunset this time, cowboy."

He looked at me with those wounded-puppy eyes. He'd never understood why I couldn't be with him. You can't build a relationship on such uneven ground. He wouldn't have been able to keep me safe forever. And of course it would have been "his fault" when I eventually got hurt. Despite leaving, that hadn't changed yet. I knew he wouldn't like it, but...

"You're going to teach me to shoot."

"Annie..."

"No. You're going to. You can't always ride to my rescue."

"What about some martial arts?"

"It'll take too long. Not all of us can be samurai-ninja-superheroes like you. Any idiot can shoot a gun."

"You're no idiot, Annie."

"I _need_ to be able to defend myself." He'd never understood that either, how I couldn't stand being helpless, being such a burden to him.

"I don't like guns," he said sadly. He didn't like it, didn't like the sight of a gun in my hands, but he taught me.

He was there the first time I shot someone, the first time I killed someone. He held me while I cried over it, felt a part of myself die over it.

"I told you I didn't like guns," he whispered.

But he saw that I could take care of myself now. I saw him less and less. It broke my heart, but it was for the best. And he still came to me when things got bad.

I rarely saw him after he joined his new team. But every once in a while... This wasn't like the old jobs, mostly one-shots that didn't matter. He cared about his team. Bad days weren't when a job hadn't gone as planned, they were when someone got hurt – or almost got hurt – or fought. Nate and Sophie fought the most.

The worst was when Sophie left. I almost thought then that he loved her, that I'd lost him and he would leave me for good. But it wasn't that. It was that the team was suffering for her absence.

I knew he was hurting, but I cherished every moment he spent with me. And eventually, the team healed itself, and his heart with it.

I was jealous – hurt that someone else could do for him what I couldn't anymore. But then, that was almost entirely my own fault. And sometimes he still needed me.

Like today. He was the only one who could sneak up on me anymore. Not that he ever meant to.

I was washing dishes. His arms were around me before I even realized he was there. I allowed myself one perfect moment of disillusionment – one moment to believe he'd come just because he wanted to see me. Then the moment was over.

"Bad day?"

"Guns," he said in answer. "Lots of guns." He never took a life if it could be avoided. When guns were involved, things could get difficult.

It was my turn to hold him. My turn to be there for him. I let him cry and wondered if his team would become people he could cry with too.

He fell asleep in my arms. The troubled lines of his face smoothed, his tough-guy facade softened. I couldn't help remembering the way he used to smile at me, back when we were really together, when I was the one he came to with his happy days as well as the bad ones.

I brushed the hair out of his eyes, kissed his forehead.

"I love you, Elliot." For a moment, I hoped that he wasn't really asleep. I hoped that he would hear me, say that he loved me too.

But he didn't hear me. And it's just as well.

I won't be his weak point anymore. I won't. I don't want to be something that can be used to hurt him.

So instead I'll be his haven.


End file.
